True purpose can never be found, only an illusion of scarred sanctity that lies within the reins of self. Decay and deception are the flimsy straw foundations that make ascension possible, and preeminence thereof. The vast, blue realm of white, vaporous mass and blinding yellow light gives way only to vicious grey torrent and charged flashing deluge. Yet when the drops fall from the grey torrent, our thirst is quenched.
Black smoke rises into the fiery sunset, and along with it, ambition. The ground upturns as every plastic truth is toppled, as every sharpened lie crumbles. In the end, all that is left is identity. The dying society that they strived to create is built with scaffolds of beams of rotting wood, the value it places upon each scaffold is heavier than all the oceans it tried to grasp. And with each new frontier the truth becomes clear.
